Musings
by Kawaii Kisu
Summary: She couldn't just turn a blind eye to the storm slowly brewing around her. Honesty was the best policy, yes, but that didn't make things simple. In her family, nothing was ever simple. Artemis-centric. Post Ep. 23 Insecurity


**Gotham City**

**December 8, 22:43 EST**

She'd had two whole days to mull over what had happened, and even now she couldn't quite wrap her mind around it all. She had spent those two days, and then some, replaying the conversation with Sports Master over and over again. She thought back on the mission repeatedly, yet she wasn't sure how to take it. Even now, while pacing around in her bedroom and ignoring any call from her mother to put some food in her system before she called it a night, she couldn't think of an answer to the situation.

What the actual fuck had happened?

Tensions within the team had risen to the point where the girl couldn't stand to be around them longer than necessary. Just for training and whatever simple mission was assigned to them in the time being. But the failure of before —just a mere few days ago, too— was still fresh enough in their minds for her to be on alert.

Kaldur had taken (or, perhaps, had been told to take) a temporary leave after reporting to Batman, though they had been assured he would be back. It didn't sit well with the rest of them. By now Robin, Conner and M'gann were filled in, too. Sure, they acted pleasant enough —Conner mostly aloof, M'gann ever cheerful, and Robin his usual snarky self—but how long before that changed? How long before everything just fell apart? And the _best _thing out of the whole deal was that fact that ol' Speedy — no, no, _Red Arrow _— was on the team. A _real _archer, because, apparently, they didn't have any of those risking their butt mission after mission for all their sakes. And he had the gall to accuse of her being the mole? To constantly belittle her, to fuel the doubts already in her friends' minds? Like that red head twat knew. Like any of them knew.

The situation was stressful, to say the least; she still couldn't shake Wally's words from her mind. It was annoying to think that anything that came out of that big mouth would actually stick enough to bother her, but it had. Selfish, he had said…

The word rang in her ears as she came to a halt just by the foot of her bed and stared at the messy sheets. Gray eyes flicked this way and that around the darkened room before she blew out a sigh and snatched up the pair of moss colored pajama pants lying by her feet. She slid on the loose fitting pants, tugging at the draw strings, and then shrugged on the nearby tank top she'd yet to put in the wash. Right now, cleanliness wasn't quite her concern, though she did trudge her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth with this sense of exhaustion washing over her. Still, that word rang loudly in her head.

Selfish? Selfish? Like the K_idiot_ had _any_ idea! Like he understood... And what about all that crap about not having to prove anything to him? About trusting her? How deep, really, had that trust ran for him to have thrown it away so easily later — and not just throw it away, but right back in her face with a force she didn't think was possible from the boy, with a words she didn't think were sharp enough to hurt her. And hurt they did.

_You blew it._

That single thought made her stop cold, glaring back at the reflection before her. She pressed her palms to the sink counter, leaning forward to get a better look at that girl, that burning girl. Those sullen gray eyes were narrowed, staring her down with such a conviction that it made her visibly squirm. She didn't _need _to feel this way; she didn't _want _to feel this way.

She was an independent woman. A strong, smart woman who was able to fend for herself and passionate about what she did. A woman who was loyal to her friends. Couldn't they see that? And damn if she was going to let this one mission set her back. Damn if she was going to let it keep her from staying on the team. Hadn't she proved enough in all this time? Wasn't it enough?

_Aren't you always asking yourself that, though?_

Was she enough?

"Sure..." Her words were hushed as she touched tan fingers to her reflection's cheek. For a moment every feature softened, and it almost — _almost _— seemed like tears would break through. She held them back. "Sure, I'm enough. They chose me... Batman chose me for this."

But no. Her mother had begged. Yes, she was on the team now, but... even then, it hadn't been based on her own merits. No matter how she looked at it, in the end it came back to pity. Pity on the disabled mother hanging onto the last bit of family she hadn't lost. Pity for the sad girl left to find her own way, hiding behind a bitter shell. It didn't matter how much she proved if the doubt was always there in the back of her teammates' minds. It didn't matter how much fight she had in her, how hard she pushed back, because the doubt would always be in the back of her mind as well.

Maybe she wasn't cut out for this. Maybe she was...

_More like Jade than you even know..._The voice slithered back into her senses, almost seductive.

"No, I'm not," she reassured herself, biting her bottom lip. But the voice wouldn't stop.

_More like your father than you even kn —_

_**I am NOT my father!**_

She almost screamed it. The anger shot back up with a vengeance, burning like acid drops on her tongue, coating and choking it. That tightness in her chest had her screaming out, something more like a feral beast's call than anything else, and before she could restrain herself she aimed a tight fist at the bathroom mirror and splintered it. Blood splattered, coating the glass surface... It almost formed a sort of spider's web, painted red. Glass cracked and popped off, crashing into the sink, sprinkling its counter before toppling onto the floor. Artemis swore under her breath, and again when she heard the worried call of her mother followed but the sound of wheels working their way along the carpeted hall.

"Damn it..."

Her mother had rolled up, yanking open the door with incoherent utterances leaving her lips. And the moment she saw the mess, the blood, her eyes widened and her voice cracked with concern as she screamed, "ARTEMIS!"

The girl took one look at the woman and bit back whatever pissed response she had been about to shoot off. "It's nothing, Mom."

"You're bleeding." The woman was livid. In spite of her daughter's protests, she was forcing her way in, reaching out for the girl's arm. Artemis tried to back away, legs bumping into the toilet and feet crunching shattered glass.

"I'll handle it, okay, so just —"

"Let me —"

"I said I'll _handle_ it! Get out!"

Her voice had cracked and went up an octave; it hurt to use it for some reason she barely understood. Her hand throbbed, still dripping and stinging, like some outward manifestation of the pain she was feeling right now. And it pissed her off. This whole thing — it was stupid! Wrong! Not worth it, not worth the stress, not worth... The blonde was quick to turn away, swipe her uninjured arm at her burning eyes, but her mother caught the look on her face.

Whatever she saw there was enough to break her heart. "Arty, baby."

"M-mom..." The words wouldn't come after that. A damn shame, because she always had something on her mind to say, but now she kept drawing blanks. Only questions she wasn't sure she wanted answers to flashed through her mind. Her mother's voice sounded far away all of a sudden.

"Artemis?"

"Mom, am I...?"

_Am I good enough?_

_Will I end up like Jade?_

_Like...like Dad?_

_Is that all I'm good for? All this family's destined to become?_

"Artemis, what is it?"

Those eyes. Why were they so expecting? So open? Her mother... This woman could see so much, loved her so much in spite of everything she was and could have been. Could _still_ be. This woman was every bit as strong willed, as passionate in spite of where she'd come from, in spite of what it had resulted in.

Surely Artemis was the same?

Paula watched the unreadable expression on her daughter's face worriedly, waiting for some kind of response that never came.

"Art —" She found herself cut off with a sudden, crushing hug from the teen. The blonde's fingers curled and twitched on the back of her mother's flannel shirt, spreading blood there. Then she buried her freckled face in the woman's bosom with all the clingy eagerness of an attention starved child, blowing out strangled breaths.

And before she could catch herself, she started crying. "M-ma..."

The woman didn't say a word, caught off guard by this side of her daughter — the side the blonde was so adamant in hiding. Instead, she leaned forward in her wheelchair and wrapped her arms around the girl. It was hard for Artemis to get her voice under control, to keep her breathy sobs from shaking her entire body and muddling her words. "I…I don't know what I'm doing, Ma. Why am I even on the team? Why should I try? If I'm just gonna end up like —"

"You," the woman interrupted, voice soft, "are right where you need to be."

"But —"

"Listen to me." She found her face being cupped by her mother's rough hands, tilted up so that she was forced to stare straight up into the woman's dark eyes. And yet there was so much understanding there — why she expected anything less, she couldn't be sure. Her mother gently wiped at the tears on her face. "You are good for this team. You're doing good things. _Helping_ people, helping yourself. That's not going to change."

"Ho…how are you so sure?"

"Because your _heart's_ in the right place," was the simple reply. "That's all the matters."

"I'm just scared."

Scared was an understatement. Terrified didn't quite fit the bill, either. If there was a word to describe the choking, sinking feeling clawing at her heart, then she couldn't think of it and doubted anyone else could. It ran deeper than just being shunned by the team, by her friends. It was idea of following in the footsteps laid out for her, travelling down that darkened road just as her sister had before her. It was the idea that, no matter how hard she fought, she could never turn her life around in the way her mother had, could never make the woman as proud. It was the idea that, maybe, she just wasn't able to…

"It's okay to be scared." Her mother's thick accent cut back into her thoughts, and she focused on the woman yet again. The fingers curled around her face tightened a bit, pulling it closer until their foreheads were touching. "You shouldn't let that hold you back, though. I just wish you would be honest with your friends."

"I…I just can't, Mom. I can't."

"I know." Paula's eyes were sad, but she smiled all the same. "In time, when you're ready. Until then, don't you give up. Now, let's take care of that hand."

She'd shed her tears and wiped them away with the same stubbornness that had driven her to them in the first place; but she pulled it together. Endless thoughts swam through her mind, but she was too tired to linger on them any longer than she had. One day—hopefully later rather than sooner—things would come back to bite her. There was still truth in her mother's words; she just had to be honest. Even if the others didn't take it well, it was better than hiding everything until the point where it blew up in her face. But…

She'd make it work.


End file.
